Broken
by Seamus C
Summary: 'Please, no, mercy, please, mercy, mercy' I begged. 'This is mercy. I am not killing you.' He said. 'No, no no, please...please...' POV Theon Greyjoy.
1. Broken

I opened my eyes only to found myself once again tied to the cross. I didn't know how long I had actually slept, but at least this time I wasn't woken up by Ramsay's terrifying war horn. He was sitting at the table on the other side of the room. Dim light spread form the torch on the walls. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was eating, and probably thinking about what he should do to me next. Really, how could it get any worse after they had relieved me of my…. my…

'Did the smell of the sausage woke you up, Lord Theon?" He turned to me with his typical, sadistic grin. I flinched just from the look. Fear, pure fear, everything I processed from his behaviours sent pure fear to my body and mind. I'd trusted him before, but now I never knew if he was lying or not. I couldn't tell anymore, not after the incident when he pretended to help me flee and framed me for killing all his guards, sending me right back to this ugly cross, not after I confessed to him my deepest sins, not after he sent the girls in and caught me off-guard and did...the thing…..

'You know people talk about this phantom limb itches when an amputee had his foot cut off, and I wonder,' he paused for a second, 'next time when you think about naked girls, will you feel…..an itch….on your phantom…..cock?'

I turned away and lowered my head in shame. All the flaying, beating, impaling, starving, dehydration, combining with the ultimate humiliation and the excruciating pain radiating from my groin upwards, I started to sob.

'Sorry, I shouldn't joke about it. My mother taught me not to throw stones at the cripple,' he shifted in his seat, 'but my father taught me, to aim for the head!'

'Kill me….' I whispered weakly.

He raised his hand to his ear with a fake questioning look,' a little louder?'

'Kill me….!' I cried desperately. Tears flowed freely down my face, my back cramped from being strapped to the cross for so long, but it was nothing now.

'And why would I do that?' He asked as he slowly stood up and made his way towards me. I tugged at the restrains involuntarily as panic washed all over me.

'I….I can't…..I can't take it…anymore…..' I kept my head down, refusing to meet his cruel gaze.

He suddenly grabbed my hair and yanked my head back to look at him, his face pressing so close that I could feel his hot breath.

'What do you mean by you can't take it? You've survived your emasculation, how worse can it possibly go?'

With little room to move, I shook my head desperately and closed my eyes, 'just kill me, please.' A whimper was bitten back unsuccessfully as my captor tightened his grip, my breath laboured. He put his left hand to his belt and I almost pleaded again thinking he might just draw out his flaying knife. Instead, he produced a letter. I secretly let out a breath, but the relief didn't last long before he started to read out the letter in an over-dramatic way.

Lord Bolton,

As head of the Iron Islands, I'm here to notify you that Theon Greyjoy, my son, whom you had held captive, poses no threat to me as he has little value to me indeed. You now have full authority and assessment to all sorts of acts concerning him. He will not be viewed as an Ironman or even a Northman should he ever returns. Therefore, you may do what you want, but I'm not for any negotiations under any circumstances.

Signed, Balon Greyjoy

My whole body trembled violently. Was this the truth, or it was just another trick from my captor? He approached me again, edging the letter to my face, 'I know what you're thinking, Greyjoy. But I'm not lying to you. You recognise the handwriting, don't you?'  
My heart sunk to the deepest place it could ever go. The hand in my hair tightened again and I yelped. 'I'm asking you a question! Do you know the handwriting, or you want me to flay you?' His other hand dropped the letter and reached for his flaying knife.

'No…..no..I mean….yes, I know the handwriting, Balon's…..' My voice trembled.

He released my hair and let my head fall back to my chest, 'seems like you are no good to him now. However, are you any good to me?' He raised a questioning brow.

Just how was I supposed to answer that question?

'I…..I…..I don't…..'

'You don't know, of course! Tell you what, 'no' for the castle but 'yes' for myself!' He took a step forward, 'personal entertainment….' He whispered into my ear as his knife trailed down the scars on my chest.

'Please…' I begged, barely audible.

'You say please again,' he stamped down painfully on my impaled foot, 'you'd wish you hadn't.'

I cried out miserably. My vision blurred as I nodded, praying that he would understand my 'good intentions', even though I had barely moved my head. I must looked extremely pathetic.

'You are no lord now, are you? You are just meat, stinky meat!' he sniffed, 'you reek!' Then he gasped and took a step backwards as if he had realised something.

'Reek! That's a good name for you! What's your name?' he asked.

I had a name, and that being Theon Greyjoy, I was not Reek.

'Theon Greyjoy.' I replied, even when I knew that it would surely get me into some massive troubles. A fierce slap across my face sent my neck snapping backward and hit the wooden cross.

'What is your name?' He asked again, more than carefully.

'Th- Theon Greyjoy.' My voice hoarse and weak. I closed my eyes, waiting for what was going to come. This time it came even harder that my neck remained awkwardly bent, unable to move back. I groaned and pleaded involuntarily, but my voice was getting so tiny that he didn't even notice it.

'What-is-your-name, last chance, or…..' his flaying knife sliced a stripe on my arm. I flinched and couldn't hold back my screams, but I knew I couldn't plead.

'Reek….' I said.

The corner of his mouth twisted into an evil grin that appeared every time before he flayed me.

'No….ple…don't…. My name is…. name is…. Reek….'

'That's more like it, Reek!' He said in a surprisingly bright voice. With a whistle, a guard came in with a piece of metal that had been burnt viciously red, shining ghostly in the dim light of the torch.

'That means, you are more than willing to accept this personalised gift. Yes, Reek?'

'Yes….' My body shook uncontrollably yet I replied.

'Yes what?' He took the piece of metal into his hand.

'Yes, m'lord.' I replied, as obediently as I could, and fought back the urge to turn away in shame. Actually, I was in too much fear, and too much pain to even move. And I didn't dare thinking about the consequences disobeying him.

'See? This 'R' is made especially for you. Are you not grateful for my great kindness?' He edged the red, hot metal 'R' closer to my face. I screwed my eyes shut and couldn't help whimpering.

'Your face doesn't look very convincing, though. I'm afraid we will have to start it all over again from the very beginning?'

I shook my head as if I really could, 'no…..no….ple…just…don't….'

'You may plead now!' He commanded with a grin.

'Please, m'lord, please don't flay me. Please….please…burn me.' I gathered up all my courage and pleaded.

He cocked an eyebrow, 'you're asking for it now?'

I swallowed real head and suppressed another whimper, 'yes, m'lord. B-burn me, please.'

He shook his head in fake sympathy.  
'Since you are asking so nicely, I guess I can only mercifully grant you your humble request, can I not?'

An extremely hot and melting sensation hit my right cheek with sizzling sound of flesh coming out. The pain rapidly spread through every cell and nerve on my face to my temples. My head felt cracking. I didn't dare crying out, but I doubted if I did. I could smelled the burnt flesh now, and it probably wouldn't go away in the rest of my life. The last thought before everything went dark, I prayed with all my heart that I had held still enough for my Lord to finish his kind business.

I am Reek. I am here to please him, and that forever.


	2. The Shave

So that was it, Ramsay was nowhere near killing me, so I had to accept the role of Reek in order to save myself from more unnecessary pain.  
'It's not that difficult, isn't it?' That was what he said after I admitted myself to be Reek. He untied me from the cross and let me collapse right to his feet.  
'Stand up, Reek!' He ordered. With my foot impaled and some of my toes mercifully cut off, I struggled to pull myself up. Thankfully he seemed to be extra-understanding and allowed me to take my time.  
'Good,' he said, 'follow me.' I hesitated, but only for less than a millisecond, I guessed, but he noticed it anyway.  
'Now!' He added. I gave him a fearful nod, lowered my head, and followed him with much difficulty keeping myself from tumbling down again.  
'And one thing,' he suddenly said, 'from now on you will address me as master or m'lord for you are now my servant.'  
'Yes, m'lord.' I replied instantly.

Now I had my place to sleep, in the cage beside his hounds, and I was grateful for the rags I was in. He would feed me when he fed his hounds. He saw me as a dog, and I started to see myself as a dog as well. I was willing to be one if that meant that I would live down my life without much pain. I was not a man after all. What was I actually? Did it really matter?

'Wake up, Reek! Today we're going to meet someone very special!'  
I had never seen the kind of light that shined in his eyes. Who would that be? Another captive, or Balon Greyjoy? Had he already taken the Iron Islands? But I knew better than to ask. I quickly stood up, 'Yes, m'lord.'  
'My father is coming to the Dreadfort,' he said with total excitement, 'and he wants to see you, Reek!'  
My head snapped and I looked up at him in pure horror. God knew what his father would do to me! He was a Bolton, and the Boltons had been flaying people throughout their history.  
'Please, m'lord…'  
'I know, I know, Reek, I won't let anyone hurt you,' he said, 'I swear!' he added.  
My legs felt shaky and my body started to tremble. What happened the last time he swore something? I got flayed. Swearing meant nothing to him. He always made promised, yet he promised nothing. I got caught back and tied to the cross, I got flayed, I got…..got something cut off, because he had broken every single promises he had mad.  
'I know you think I am a liar. I'm not blaming you. But now you are Reek, my servant, not Theon.' He smiled. 'And I love my servants as much as I love my hounds!' He finished his sentence in a teasing tone.

'Father.' He called a man coming into the hall. The man made his way towards me. I had a sudden urge to back away but the fear of disobeying my master kept me still in the spot I stood.  
'What did you do to him?' the man asked.  
'I trained him,' my master paused, 'he was a slow learner, but he learned.'  
The man grabbed my right hand and frowned. I gasped at the pain when he brushed my wounds.  
'You flayed him' the man said.  
'Just a few bit, and removed a few others.'  
My eyes cast to the ground, but I knew where exactly he was looking at, with that unmistakable smile.

'This is Balon Greyjoy's son and heir.' The man said with disapproval.  
'We've been flaying our enemies for one thousand years. The Flayed Man is on our banner. What does it matter?' My master replied.  
The man gave him a dangerous look, 'you are not a Bolton. You are a Snow.'  
I sensed my master's body stiffened at the comment, but he didn't say anything.  
'Theon is a valuable hostage, nor your plaything.' The man continued.

I'd heard that name before, I'd heard someone called me that before, but it all seemed extremely distant. I had no feelings but sympathy for the name. That was a name of a boy who betrayed his best friend and the family that raised him, who fucked his sister like a savage animal, who was abandoned by his own father, and who was no longer remembered by the people in the Iron Islands. I was lucky, because my master loved me. He cared about me, and he gave me another life. Theon was his plaything, but I was not. I was his loyal servant.

'I need Theon, I need him whole,' the man said.  
My master paced slowly around me and replied proudly, 'Theon was our enemy. But Reek! Reek will never betray us!'  
I wouldn't. Theon was the one who betrayed, not me.  
"I place far too much trust in you,' the man my master called Father seemed uninterested.

I sensed my master growing a but angry, which was bad, really bad.  
'Reek! How could you let me stand before my father unshaven? It's disrespectful.'  
My heart raced faster. I'd do anything, please, anything to avoid any possible punishment from my master.  
'I'm sorry, m'lord,' I replied fearfully, but made sure that my voice was audible.  
He sat down in the chair and I was holding a razor in my right hand. The man gave my master a concerning look.  
'If I'm not a Bolton, Father, what does it matter?' he asked.  
I was not sure what he meant, but it was none of my business to understand what they were saying.  
'Go on, Reek. A nice, close, shave,' he ordered.  
I only had to take orders.

'Reek, tell Father where are Bran and Reckon Stark,' my master looked up into my eyes.  
'I…..I don't know, m'lord.' I replied, hands still working on the razor.  
'You murdered them and displayed their corpses at Winterfell.'  
I swallowed hard, not sure whether to answer or not.  
'Reek, did you murder the boys?' My master demanded.  
'No, m'lord. Just two farm boys.'  
'And you crisped them so no-one would know?'  
'Yes, m'lord,' my mouth automatically replied for me.

'The Starks have always ruled the North. If the boys are alive, the country will rally to their side now that Robb Stark is gone.' My master said in a rather peaceful tone, yet it struck my mind like a lightening. My constantly moving right hand came to a halt suddenly.  
'Sorry,' the fake look with sympathy appeared again, 'I know he was like a brother to you. But my father put a knife through his heart.' He looked up playfully, showing no fear in his eyes. The confidence was obvious, but how could he be so sure?

My right hand clenched around the razor yet it shook unsteadily. I sucked in a sharp breath and for that one second, I swore that I wanted to slice the throat of the bastard who had put his neck under my razor, willingly. It was my chance, and probably my only chance I could ever make up for the sins I bore. And using the same razor, I could even guarantee myself a luxurious, quick death. The old man wouldn't be quick enough to stop me, because he was still holding his breath, waiting nervously to see what would happen, and because the razor was already in my right hand. I was grateful that my remaining fingers could still hold a razor, so why not?

The razor was still in its place, touching the soft skin under his chin. I could even feel his pulse, the pulse of a bastard who wanted to prove something to his father as much as…Theon.  
Theon was dead, Theon was the one who betrayed, not me. And who was I? Reek, I told myself. I was Reek, a loyal servant to my Lord. How could I harm him, just how could I ever think of harming my master?  
The razor went steadily up and I finally finished the shave.

'You want to prove yourself a Bolton?' The man asked. My master raised an eyebrow.  
'Gather whatever men you can, bring this creature of yours, and take Moat Cailin for the family, for OUR family, and I'll reconsider your position.' The man then left the hall without further instructions.  
'What do you think, Reek? Are you not as excited as I am?' My master wiped his newly shaved face with a piece of cloth. 'Time to prove ourselves something, isn't it?' He walked fast through the hall, saying to me ambitiously without turning back.  
I was lost in his words until I heard the clank of the razor dropping and hitting the stone floor. I bent down to pick it up and quickly followed my master out the hall.


	3. Salvation

The hounds were barking and shifting in their cages anxiously. Still lying on my side, I snapped open my eyes but didn't dare to move a bit. My master used to disturb my sleep at night but, I thought he was spending his time with…..the girl tonight? No, I must be dreaming. I closed my eyes tightly and reopened them again, only to hear the noise approaching near. I heard the sound of an ax slicing over flesh and body fell to the floor with a thud. It was not a dream, it was not a dream, I confirmed.  
Should I turn to see what was happening? No, maybe they would let me go if I just pretended that I was still asleep. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breath, but I couldn't help trembling violently. The insecurity of not knowing who was coming was overwhelming, and it reminded me of the time when I was blindfolded and tied to the cross. As the group of people, yes, a group of them coming, I panicked, and I started to make my way to the deepest corner of my cage.

Yara's face appeared from above my cage. I stared at her in horror, my legs kicking the floor uselessly, pushing me nowhere.  
'We're going home,' she calmly said.  
Old images flashed through my mind. What did he say to me that night? 'Your sister sent me….' And what happened to me after that? All the bad things possible. And now here was my sister, again. This was definitely another trial from my master to test my loyalty. It must be.  
As Yara broke the lock of my cage with her ax, 'No!', I shouted, backing away as far as I could.  
'It's alright. It's me, Yara,' the woman in front of me claimed and reassured me.  
No, no, you were not. For so many times Theon had expected you to come, yet you didn't. When he eventually died, you came and said that you wanted to save him. You were late, Yara, far too late. He was gone for good. Now what did you want from me really? What did you expect from this loyal servant of Lord Ramsay's?

'You can't trick me. Tell him! Tell him you can't trick me!' I knew your trick, Lord Ramsay, and I wouldn't betray you. Theon was the one who betrayed, not me.  
'I'm not tricking you, Theon, I'm saving you!' Yara got annoyed and yelled.  
'Not Theon! Reek! Reek! My name is Reek!' And nobody was going to take me away from my master.  
Yara stepped forwards and grabbed my arm, 'Help me with him,' she commanded a man of hers.  
'No, you can't! You can't!' I protested furiously.  
She looked me in the eye, 'You are Theon the Greyjoy,' she tried again.  
She was sending me into a state of total mania. I felt like I was being ripped apart. I was not Theon, I never was, just how could she insist calling me that?  
'No, I know who I am! I'm Reek, loyal Reek, good Reek! I've always been Reek!' I struggled as Yara and the man yanked my arms and brought me out of my cage, their hands trying to cover my mouth to prevent me from making further noises.

Please, my Lord, this was simply too much. Made this end, and made this stop. As you could see, I was being so loyal to you. Was that still not enough? Didn't that satisfy you? What else did you want from me? Just…told me, and I'd do just that. Please came to my aid and stopped them from taking me away from you. I wanted to remain here, I belonged here.

And there he was, as if he had heard my 'prayer'. I felt much relieved seeing my master once again. I didn't know how he'd got blood all over his upper torso, but that didn't matter. He came to save me, and that was what really mattered. He had a dagger in his left hand, and a mace in his right. I had never really seen him fight, yet somehow I felt secure seeing him like this, armed with weapons.

'This is turning into a lovely evening,' he said.

The sentence was like his war horn that triggered the fight. Two sides of people blended into one with blood splashing out everywhere. Knives, swords, axes, and daggers sank deeply into the vulnerable flesh under the metal armours. Two of Yara's men were still holding me while I struggled to break free. This was wrong, totally wrong. I was supposed to be in my cage and slept, but now there were people dying or dead all over the floor. There were Yara's men, and Lord Ramsay's men as well. They died because of me, a pathetic servant. How could I ever make up for that?

One grip on my arm loosened, but Yara managed to catch me back while putting down another Ramsay's man. I decided that I couldn't just let she hold me so I bit down on her arm. She yelped and let go. I ran back to my cage and bent behind the cage bars. My master was doing fine, putting down one and another Yara's men with his savage blows. His dagger struck into their bodies and mace knocked over their skulls and shields. I could no longer tell whether the blood on his chest was his own or not.

The two sides finally parted and Yara demanded to have her brother back so nobody would die. My master chuckled nonchalantly.  
'You've got bigger balls than he has ever had,' he pointed at me and turned his icy gaze back to Yara, 'but I wonder,' he took out a key and displayed his typical grin, 'how fast can you run?'  
Yara's face darkened, and soon after they fled with Lord Ramsay's hounds running after them like chasing for their meals. My master watched them run and kept staring at the now empty passage with a mysterious smile, then he turned back to look at me.

I crawled out of my cage fearfully and thanked him humbly for saving me from being taken away.  
'You really don't want to leave here, do you?' he asked.  
'No, ...of course not, m'lord.' I lifted my head to look at him, hoping he would only understand my appreciation.  
'I'm very pleased that you didn't let them take you,' he paused, 'however, you've disturbed my peaceful night sleeping, Reek!'  
'I'm sorry, m'lord. I didn't mean to call out like that but, but….. I was scared that I…..' I tried to explain.  
'I don't need any explanation now, Reek. Go back to your cage, sleep, and we'll talk about this tomorrow,' he ordered.

That was the thing that truly scared me, my unpredictable Lord. What would he do to me tomorrow when the morning lights shone in? He liked to keep me waiting, and he always had me wait, and that was unbearable. But I didn't have a choice, did I? I crawled back into my cage and curled up on the floor.

'Will have to get you a new lock, though…..' That was the last thing he said stepping away from the kennel.


	4. Reward

'Don't you think you've slept a little bit too long?'  
My eyes snapped open, and I found my master's face just outside the cars of my cage, his hot breath came along to my face with his whisper. I instantly sat up and automatically ignored the pain in my cross, which had been seriously twisted and bruised. It was nothing compared to the loss of the lives last night. My master had already sacrificed too much for me. I didn't deserve any of the men's lives.  
'Yes, m'lord. I'm sorry, m'lord.'  
'Have these and I want you in my bath place in ten minutes.' My master threw me something before turning around and left.  
I took a close look at the thing. It was probably the leftover from last night's feast. I grabbed and stuffed them into my mouth anyway. Ten minutes were not a long time, and I had to make sure that I had enough energy to do all the chores today.

I finished them quickly, then I wondered what to do next. My master used to open my cage for me, but today he left of alone in the acid with a broken lock. What was he thinking about? I reached for the cage door but as soon as my fingertip touched the bars, I flinched away as if the bars had been burnt extremely hot. I didn't want freedom, I didn't deserve freedom. I used to have too many choices to choose from and I messed up. Life would simply be easier for me if all the choices had been made for me. Choices were the beginning of all sorts of troubles, I now realised. So why did my lord left me with a choice?

I was Reek, and I only had to take orders. My lord wanted me to go out, and shall I do.  
I inhaled deeply before pushing open the door. The bars were amazingly colder than what I had expected. I guessed I kind of liked the cool sensation on my fingertip, if I was allowed to like anything. Cold metals were always better than hot metals, weren't they?  
I walked slowly out of the cage and stretched my body. The hounds were shifting, but not barking, probably because they had identified me as part of them. But today for the first time, I felt something inside me different from these hounds. My master left me with a broken lock, but not you, my friends, you were only hounds.

As I entered the bath place, numerous thoughts emerged from the darkest corner of my mind, I told myself not to think so much, and that what was going to happen would happen. That was my fate, it was not changeable.  
My master was sitting on the edge of a tub, his right hand brushed over the surface of the water.

'I have a treat for you,' he said, 'a reward.'  
I raised my head fearfully, 'Reward?'  
My master turned to look at me. 'Yes, Reek. Those creatures that came at the night, they wanted to take you away, and you didn't let them.'  
His grin was different this time, lacking the usual bit of cruelty, ruthlessness, and arrogance.  
'You remained loyal.' He finished his sentence. From his look, I thought he meant it, and I was suddenly devoured by gratitude.  
'I…..I didn't want them to take me, ' insecurity occupied my mind as I recalled last night's terrifying incident, 'I was so scared… I didn't want them-'  
'Yes, yes, Reek,' my lord cut me off and made his way towards me. I ceased speaking immediately, I didn't want to get him annoyed. I didn't want to upset him. He stopped two steps in front of me and turned aside, gesturing at the tub of water, 'It's a bath,' he paused, 'for you!'

I looked at my lord in confusion and I looked at the bath. I wasn't questioning his order, I was just, confused. When my gaze returned to my lord again, he asked me to take of the rags I was in. I didn't know why, having spent so much time half-naked on the cross with him , I still hesitated.  
'Now.' My master decided to make his order clearer. I slipped off my clothes and let it fall to the floor.  
'And the breeches, too, Reek. Take them off.'  
Fighting the shame, disgust, and awkwardness, I obeyed and stripped down to absolutely nothing. A tiny smirk escaped my master's lips as his eyes trailed down my body. It was like a thunder to me. My face was burning and I didn't dare to look at my master.

My master stepped out of the way between the tub and me and bent politely like a servant. He was asking me to get into the tub. I whimpered as I limped my way to the tub, which was only a few steps in front of me yet felt like miles away. My heart raced faster once my master was not in my sight. Again the insecurity of not knowing what awaited me was unbearable. I sensed my lord's shrewd gaze fixed on my naked body. I felt so vulnerable and wanted to get into the tub as quickly as I could.

When I finally sat down in the tub, I didn't know what to do once again, so I just sat there, staring at the water. The tender light scattered on the surface of the water and cast a floating reflection on my face. It felt warm, just like the water. It was neither too hot nor cold.

I heard my lord coming. I stole an anxious look at him. He came from the left but paced to the right leisurely, as if he was appreciating an exhibition.  
Not knowing what he was thinking about, I pulled my knees closer to my scarred chest and lowered my head in fear. He stopped and sat down on the edge of the tub.  
Silence, silence, silence. What was he thinking about, what was he doing? Couldn't he just say something? Every of his actions was pushing me closer to a panic attack.

Water dripped down the piece of cloth he was holding, my master knelt down beside the tub and I stared at his right hand. The hand disappeared from my sight. Warm water dripped down my back just like blood dropping from a whip. My body trembled and my breath raced. What if it was something else? What if it wasn't just a normal piece of cloth at all?

The hand with the cloth landed gently on my back eventually, and I gasped at the pain that was never physically there. I slowly turned my eyes to look at the hand stroking my back to reassure myself that it was a normal piece of cloth. It didn't burn, and it didn't hurt. I felt guilty having doubts on my master's kind intentions.  
'Do you love me, Reek?' my master asked with earnest.  
I tried to look him in the eye with sincerity, 'Yes, of course, m'lord.'  
'Good, because I need you to do something for me, something very important…'  
My arms that had been embracing myself slowly loosened as my master rubbed the wet cloth against my back. I hoped I was right to trust him this time. He was my master, why shouldn't I trust him? I looked up at him and focused on the words he was going to say.

'There's a castle you see, some bad man held this castle,' he paused and his tone turned playful.  
'I need your help, to take this castle back!' he said.  
He was making me even more confused now. Why did this castle has anything to do with me? How was I even able to take this castle back? My mouth opened and closed a few times but uttered no sound. I tried again, harder, 'How can I…..?'  
He leaned forwards, 'I need you to play a role, to pretend to be someone you're not.'  
I shivered, because I saw clearly in his eyes that the eager look had returned, and I suddenly felt weak and unprotected. Maybe I was wrong to trust him after all, even when he was my master.

I processed his words for a few seconds and asked carefully, 'Pretend to be who?'  
I raised my eyes and saw his typical gin again. I turned away instantly to avoid any possible eye-contact with him. And it was making things even worse. I felt like an injured prey lying trapped, struggling, and bleeding before the hunter, fully exposed to his sharp gaze. I closed my eyes and waited for the final strike to put me to my death. Come on, why did two seconds take so long?

I couldn't see clearly and I couldn't think straight. The blow never came, yet a distant voice echoed beside my ear, 'Theon Greyjoy.'


	5. Remember What You Are & What You're Not

'What do you tell them?' My master looked at me, his eyes as sharp as those of a hawl.  
'I'm Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon, heir to the Iron Islands.' I tried hard not to stammer as my master lifted my right hand and put it into a leather glove. The stump stung when it touched the worn human skin. Emptiness stuffed up the space where my little used to be.  
'And what are you really?' My master asked.  
'I'm Reek.'  
'Are you sure?' My master gazed at me up and down, 'You do look very much like a lord. Formidable, proud.'  
'I'm Reek, m'lord,' I repeated, making sure that I looked him in the eye.  
'Until when?' He asked in a challenging tone.  
'Always,' and then, 'Forever,' I added. I just wanted to reassure him of my absolute loyalty.

'That's right, 'his face edged towards mine. 'Until you are rotting in the ground,' he patted my face in the way he patted his hounds, 'Remember what you are, and what you're not.' He threw his arm around my shoulders, leaving me no choice but to follow him to the edge of the cliff.  
There stood Moat Cailin, lonely and dying in the mist.  
'Bring me Moat Cailin,' my master ordered in his soft voice. Cold winds blew, a crow was screaming some death calls in its hoarse voice, 'Moat Cailin! Moat Cailin! Moat Cailin!'

'You say you're Theon Greyjoy?' Kenning asked.  
'Yes,' I replied, short and clear.  
'And why should I believe that?'  
I secretly took a deep breath and recited the sentence my master wanted me to say. I had practiced it for so many times, and I had tasted the consequences of failure. There was no way I couldn't do it again here.  
'I was born on Pyke to Balon Greyjoy, his third and last living son. I am your Prince, I swear it by the Drowned God,' I swallowed, 'What is dead may never die.'  
'What is dead may never die, ' the others repeated.  
I put down my right hand and told myself immediately afterwards the Drowned God was dead already, so was Theon.  
'Remember what you are, and what you're not.' My master's voice echoed beside my ears.

'What does Lord Bolton want?'  
"Lord Bolton implored you to protect your men and abandon this fortess you can no longer hold. The Bolton will give you safe passage to the Stony Shore.' I tried to pluck up my dignity and recited in a rather steady tone.  
'He wants us to surrender?' Kenning murmured.  
'Do this, and he'll be just and fair with you as he has been with me.' I swallowed hard. This was always the most difficult sentence for me to say. Just and fair, with me. For each time of hesitation and showing of fear and cowardness, the punishment from Lord Ramsay was unimaginable. Just and fair.

'My own father, your King, surrendered to Robert Baratheon years ago. I watched him bend his knees, and there was no shame there. He fought with honour, as did you.'  
The wounded man fell down and muttered something that I couldn't quite understand as he struggled to stand up again. I tried to ask him what he had said, only to be spit on the face. The mixture of saliva and blood dripped down my cheek, reminding me of how my master had treated me as one of his hounds. I sensed an invincible shadow casting over me, and the pressure was becoming almost too much for me to even breath.

'No shame, fought with honour,' he said with disgust, 'only a whipped dog would speak this way, or a woman.'  
'Are you a woman, boy?' he asked hatefully and carefully.  
A whipped dog or a woman, what id I was both? Why couldn't he just surrender like I did and spare me the humiliation?  
I stared at him, but what I saw was my master standing in front of me, with his casual grin and holding a dog whip, ready to strike.  
'If you fail, Reek, even I cannot guarantee you what you will become. Perhaps some plaything to my hounds?'  
I blinked once.  
'Remember what you are and what you're not.'

'The Ironborn will not surrender.' Kenning continued anyway.  
And that was it, the final straw that crashed the fake frame of Theon Greyjoy and made all the past punishments turn into nothing. I was going to fail eventually. No matter how hard I tried, I could never be good enough for my master, just like Theon couldn't to Balon.  
I was not an Ironborn, Theon was. It was Lord Ramsay that gave me a name and a life. I was born at the Dreadfort, and 'Reek, my name is Reek…' I mumbled to myself.  
Balon didn't give Theon nothing, but Lord Ramsay, although stripping me down to nothing and discovering my deepest fear, forced me to face it and in the end gave me a solution. Lord Ramsay was my true saviour, my reedember.

'Go tell you master, that Theon Greyjoy, or whoever the fuck you are…'  
He knew it, he knew that I was fake. He knew that I wasn't Theon. How was I going to face my master when I went back without Moat Cailin? There was no room for failure under Lord Ramsay. I wanted to say that I was Theon Greyjoy but somehow, 'My name is Reek…..' haunted my head and my mind.  
'What in the hell are you muttering?'  
I wasn't even aware that I said it out until he asked. My lips trembled, struggling to form words, letting along sentences. Before I could reply, an ax cut through Kenning's fragile skull and remained deep, sunk into his forehead.

I stared at the still opened eyes as the body slumped to the ground. I was in shock but much to my relief, this fellow traitor might just safe me from a hell lot of pain inflicted by my master. This was my chance to make it up, I couldn't fail this time.  
'If we yield, we live. Is that what it says on this paper here?' With trembling hands, 'the traitor' picked up the paper, understanding no words on it, yet carefully asked in earnest and sincerity with a shred of hope in his eyes.  
I regained certain levels of composure in a surprising few seconds.  
'Yes, have your men raise the white flag and open the gates. You're going home.'

At the end of the day everybody was happy and satisfied, apart from Kenning. My master was happy because Lord Roose Bolton was happy. I was happy for my Lord Ramsay and the fact that he had given me additional food and clothing as me reward. The surrendered men were happy for having kept their lives all the way to the Dreadfort. I was even a bit of proud for my master's kindles and generosity for sparing the men's lives. That night, I still slept on the floor in Lord Ramsay's room, yet he gave me another quilt. I fell asleep almost immediately when I lied down. For the first time for so many months, I didn't have a single nightmare haunting me. I was unaware of nothing around me until I woke up and found my master not in his bed.

There was only me in the room. Where had he gone? I was not allowed to sleep more than he did. I was supposed to wake up early and get breakfast ready for my master. What had I done? Why had I sleep so long? I scrambled to my feet and opened the windows. It was still dark, it wasn't even dawn! Why would my master disappear in the middle of the night? I rushed out of the door but didn't know where to start looking for him. Two guards happened to come around and kindly told me that my master was waiting for me in the dungeon. No, anywhere but the dungeon, please. I didn't do anything that made me deserving to be tied back to the cross, did I? I almost collapsed to the guards' feet hearing their words. All the scars on my body seemed to open up by themselves, oozing dirty blood and hurting me. All the things around me were spinning, taking me through a journey of pain, suffering, taunting, and humiliation. The scars between my legs felt burning and almost sent me into unconsciousness. Which of my body parts did he want from me this time?

The two guards left after helping me up to my feet. I wanted to cry, but I found myself having no tears to shed at all. I felt nauseous, as if somebody had just punched me real hard in the guts. I fell to my knees again. The panic nearly made me choke myself. I pressed my Palm down to the floor to stable myself, only to see my mutilated hands. Everything, everything on me was the product of the cross, I, myself, was the product of the cross. Lord Ramsey was not my master, he was a sadistic torturer with a malicious heart and endless hunger for blood and pain. I was not Reek, I was the creature between Theon Gregjoy and Reek. I didn't have a name, I was nothing.

When I finally wasted an awful lot of time pitying myself and made it to the dungeon, I saw Ramsay outside the dungeon leaning against its door, as the guards had said, waiting for me. 'You are here at last, and how long has it been?' he asked.  
'I'm sorry, m'lord.' That was all I could say as I suppressed a sob. Ramsay reached down to his belt in an exaggerated way and drew out his flaying knife as he slowly approached me. I screwed my eyes shut tightly and couldn't help whimpering. I could feel the temperature dropping where the knife edged closer to my skin. It trailed from my chin upwards to my cheek and around my eyes, then I heard a distant scream.

'Look at me, Reek.' I panted, daring not to thinks about the worst and obeyed. His face was so close to mine, his eyes were still tender grey.  
'You're scared, Reek,' he said. Was this a question? I blinked, making sure that I could really see.  
'What do you want, Reek?' his voice soft. It was getting confusing now.  
'I...I...I don't-'  
'It's okay, Reek, tell me,' Ramsay added.  
'Don't…don't put me back to the cross...please...'  
'Please what?' he asked sharply.  
I trembled violently as I fell to my knees, 'Please...m'lord.'  
His eyeing on me was icy cold. 'You should be grateful that I'm in a good mood today. I still have work to do, and you will wait here for further instructions. Remember what you're and what you're not.'  
'Yes, m'lord,' and, 'Thank you, m'lord.' I replied, head lowered.

More screams and whimpers came from the dungeon as my master returned. I realised that the distant scream was not from me, but from the people inside the dungeon. I heard them struggled against their restrains and crosses. They screamed theirselves hoarse, until they could scream no more. And the silence was the most unbearable thing. My master would certainly keep them alive, so did they just faint from the torture, or worse, my master had cut their vocal cords, perhaps along with their tongues? I suddenly felt thankful that my master didn't take away my ability to speak.

I didn't know how long it had passed before my master came out of the dungeon again with his blood-stained cloak.  
'Reek, go to the courtyard. I have something for you to see!' he ordered, eyes sparkling lights with a sly smile on his face.  
It took a long time for me to make it to the courtyard through the numerous stairs from the dungeon. It was not until I pulled open the gate and saw the sun light that I realized that it was already morning. The birds were singing, gentle winds blew, and folks were walking around as if nothing had happened. They pretended, at least. Only the air was stuck with the thick smell of blood and rotten flesh.

There the Bolton men displayed the corpses if the happy surrendered men from last night, whom were promised safe passage to Stony Shore. I only recognized them by their faces, because apart from that, all the other parts were just the same, blood smeared, and flayed to bones. As Lord Roose Bolton said, there was no secrets anymore. One of the traitor's eyes was gone. I didn't know whether my master took it away himself or the crows did. I stood there, tongue-tied, no noticing my master approaching me.

'Do you like them, Reek?'  
I gasped at the unexpected appearance of his voice just beside my ears.  
I hesitated, 'Of course, m'lord.' I turned around and replied.  
His eyes fixed on my face, studying my expressions. 'You're upset, Reek.'  
I knew I couldn't hide anything from him. My mind had been completely flayed, and I had no secrets left. I cast my eyes down and lowered my head further in fear.

'Seven Hells!' my master swore, 'You didn't really think that I'd just let them go, did you?' he threw his arm around my shoulders again casually.  
'It's fallen out of fashion, flaying. Sad, but true, traditions are important,' he paused, 'Where are we without our history, eh?' he asked, but clearly not expecting an answer.

My mind was tangled. I thought my master was letting them go. He made me said that he'd let them go. They trusted me and killed Kenning, they trusted my master and they surrendered. But what did they get? My master sacrificed his sleep and spent the whole night flaying his new prisoners right after his return to the Dreadfort. And now I was truly one of them, the Boltons. But why would I care? Why would I have mercy on them? Only those who obeyed from their hearts deserved mercy from my Lord Ramsay. My master showed me his mercy by not killing me.

Really, I felt I should be happy for my master's success taking over Moat Cailin.  
'Yes, m'lord. Will we go home now?' I replied, wearing a face that a loyal servant would wear forever till his death.  
'I believe we will, to our new home.' He replied in his soft and light voice and walked away without giving me a second look. I blinked several times.  
'And don't get too easy, Reek. Remember what you are, and what you're not.' His voice seemed to come from miles away.


End file.
